travelogue: venice, we go

Stop # 4 of euromoon: Venice, Italy

Somehow, it feels like cheating to put up a post for a trip you did not like.

So many people love it! We met a woman on this trip that has summer-long vacations in Venice every year.

Every. Year.

We didn't last 48 hours before we were imploding and exploding in a furnace of sweat and rage.

Everything smelled like pee.

Very, very hot pee.

(I should mention that I can't handle extreme heat)

(I sort of melt like a wicked witch. Very dramatic and yowly.)

Who knows, maybe this post will be a nice change of pace! You're so used to my over-the-top fawning at all the places we go to; all these adjectives involving magic and light and impossible beauty.

Why not a post about pee instead.

Before I get too cynical, I must admit that looking at these photos we took, makes me second guess myself. 

I mean, Venice is a city FLOATING ON WATER (this may not be the exact, er, engineering term for it.) That's pretty neat. The architecture is stunning, given the modern landscapes we hail from. And even in spite of the fact that I am not the biggest fan of Marble Statue Things, I stared at some of these stony faces and stony fingers and stony lions for a long time. 

This was my second time in Venice, and Bry's first. I had gone a decade or so prior, when my family and I took a five week trip around Italy. I remember being fond of Venice. This may have been due to reasons such as:

• air conditioning 
• staying in a super ritzy hotel for free (parent-journalist connections)
• being well fed
• pleasantly mild weather

That is my jaunty 21-year-old self in Italy in 2005. She seems very smug to me. Also, she is not sweating.

On the other hand, 31-year old-Joann was full of sweats as Venice experienced a heat wave at 35C for the two nights we were there. Staying in the city centre is expensive, and we had opted for a room in our host's house that was up four flights of (very steep) stairs. Hot air rises. Suffice to say the nights were not much better than the scorching days, and we lay in bed with the pitiful desk fan trained on our bodies, while feeling like we were being slowly prepared in a sous-vide cooking contraption. Leaving the cool mountains of Cortina felt a bit like a mistake.

After one night of this, I decided that we would go to the Peggy Guggenheim museum the next day--yes for the incredible art collection she amassed, which I was impressed with on my previous journey here, but moreover, for the air conditioning. 

I love you, AC.

The museum was solid, just like I remember. It's worth the admission fee even without the promise of cool, artificial air. We spent the rest of our last day wandering around Peggy's collection of Dali's and Picassos, before heading off for dinner (where we got swindled to pay $90 CDN for a baked sea bass, AKA our new inside-joke / warning of staying away from "basshole" situations where we may get charged an arm and a leg for no reason. Usage in sentence: "Should we add gravel insurance protection to this rental?" "No, we're being basshole-d.")

I'm not used to being so candidly negative about any city, so after this paragraph I am going to use an internet gadget that will give you amnesia as your look at the rest of our photos. You deserve to look at these canals with wonder.

Imagine it when it was old and ancient, with no threat of gelato-frenzied tourists. Get lost in the labyrinth of passages that seemingly make no sense.

Go walk around a city where water is your sidewalk.

Just make sure you bring nose plugs if you go in the July/August heat! Kekekekekeke.

Of late: November Musings

      

   

    

   

  

1/ Sunny walks in Port Moody   2/ Snow dappled mountains at Joffre Lakes

3/ Sablefish on date night with momma    4/ Ninja Turtle! 

5/ My favourite tree    6/ I stare at these during all the stress of life 

7/ A week later, toe broken :(   8/ The wise fox at Savio Volpe

Of late...( Late again. Let's just say these may be late for the next two years. )

November was// a Richter scale 7.

It was up

and down

and zig zags

and anything but linear. 

November is historically a pretty tough month for many people in my life: it gets so dark out, you're fumbling out the door when the sky is still pitch blue for work, and then slumping back home under that same but different dark ceiling. Not to say that nothing good happens in November (so much did!), but it is something to take notice of, the way that the outside world influences our present biology. 

You're not crazy. It's just dark. And cold. Your body responds.

I really try to resist saying "so busy" when someone asks me "How are you?", but sometimes that is just the wide open truth. My month continued on from October, and it was full of end of term Things. Due dates. Deadlines. 1" margins, or two marks taken off. School Joann is a slightly different creature than the usual one you see here. Same soul, different intensity.

Take me to the Goods!//  Okay. Yes. Remind yourself of what was gold, ponyboy, or you do forget.

♥ The newest member of our family: Ninja Turtle, the forest green Subaru. We love him. This means        freedom! This means the ability to venture out into wide open spaces! 

♥ Sunday adventures: leaving the city for nature, three weeks in a row. Getting out of my head, and out from behind my desk, and ignoring my assignments in favor of sanity. Discovering the peace of snow again on the Joffre Lakes trail, and having birds land on our heads and hands. 

♥ Binge watching Master of None and seeing diversity on screen 

♥ Kisses from nephews-in law

♥ Witnessing the play Nirbhaya, based on the incident of the gang rape in India. A reminder that keeping     silent serves no one. Powerful, chilling stuff. The most intense play I've ever seen.

♥ The loveliest date with Husb at the newly opened trattoria, Osteria Savio Volpe: Tavern of the Wise Fox. A stone's throw from our house. A killer farro/squash/parmesan salad. 

♥ Finishing my last class of the term on the last day of the month. PHEW.

Body// is elastic. Did you know, it walks alongside you when you're struggling, and then again when you soar? It listens and responds. It can bounce back, and it does. This is something I didn't know for a long time, and not knowing would send me to the land of Doubt. I'm so glad that I know to say to myself now: Everything passes.

Recipe this month: when feeling overwhelmed, sneak out for air as often as you can. Even in a full day of teaching, you can find time for some cold against your face.

On juju//  On the way back from Pemberton and our wonderful day, we hit a set back. Somewhere along that black stretch of highway home, B's wallet and phone had gone missing. The detour to go back and find it was windy, and dark. A bit harrowing. I discovered driving at night in a speeding bullet with a bend called Suicide Hill is... not my favourite. The phone was found smashed on the side of the road, the wallet lost. 

A week later, B broke his toe. This is very not good. I know, you think: that's like... the smallest thing on your whole body you can break. Is it that bad? And yet, you can't walk with a broken toe. And if you can't walk, that means your hands are preoccupied with crutches. And if that's the case, then: mobility. Autonomy. Snowboarding. Sunday adventures. Asking for help for little things. 

It's not about the break; it's about the loss that comes after it. 6 weeks of being off your feet seems like a long time when the snow reports are epic. So.

Please send good juju, care of a pigeon or just a beam of healing vibes, to Bryan Green's right pinky toe. Thank you. 

Wearing// Black. Sometimes all black, head to toe. Blue. Brown. I'm not gravitating towards colour as much as I used to. A product of living in East Van, of feeling more quiet lately, I don't know. It possibly means nothing at all. What is new to report is that I continue to buy very little in the way of clothes, which would surprise two years ago Joann very much. I buy doughnuts instead.

Best bites of the month// 

Deli sandwiches from La Grotta del Fromaggio on the Drive, drizzled with oil and balsamic vinegar. Get them to pack them up, grab some Italian pastries from next door, and go for a hike.

The meatballs at Savio Volpe.

The miso sablefish at glowball. 

I usually get the vegetarian burrito at Sal y Limon, but one time this month, I had the chorizo con queso con huevo burrito (which B usually gets) and it was stars in my eyes.

Erin Ireland's coconut lemon poppyseed loaf. I order it through SPUD.

Upcoming// 

MY FAVOURITE TIME OF THE YEAR! Let me find an almond milk egg nog! Let there be white twinkly lights! Let me hold babies and hug friends and eat everything and sleep past 7am! Let me skype all those people that matter. Let me do nothing at all, and possibly love it. 

One month in 2015 to go. Have you chosen to learn the lessons of this year yet?

With all my love,

Your pen pal

of late: October Musings

1/ 7:55am on Fraser st, waiting for bus   2/ Spontaneous brunch for travelling friend from afar

3/ Treasures from last Trout Lake farmers market of the season     4/ Foxy new restaurant opening up across the street

5/ Pumpkin pie to celebrate political oustings    6/ Date night: Tetsuro Shigematsu from Empire of the Son

7/ Tucked away in a back alley at Parade of Lost Souls   8/ Three doughnuts this month. This pumpkin one was the winner.

Of late...( though late again. )

October was// level II. 

It was more Grouse Grind than a hike on the dyke. The newness had worn off, and when that's over-- it's just hard work, and so many looseleaf papers, and saying "no" to lots of fun things. 

I threw myself into teaching. I threw myself into school. I threw up on the inside, just a little bit.

Remember in September when I said you might be holding me to my promise of being kinder to myself? 

These oaths get forgotten when shit gets real, and you end up saying yes to everything except for yourself. I mean I-- I do. 

So in the last few days of the month, I found myself on my teal couch, with the husband beside, needing to breathe into a metaphorical paper bag. Turns out, I can't do everything all at once, and not have some essential part of my silhouette become crooked. B was firm on this-- I had to teach less days than I was currently taking on. There were stubborn tears. I went to sleep.

In the light of a cool blue day, I realized: that husband o' mine is a wise man.

That sounds sucky. Was there anything good?// 

Oh yes. Of course. There are moments everyday that are good. Like, sending mail and imagining your friends faces' when they get it. Like, biking downhill to go fetch flowers and apple chips from farmers. Like, going on dates with your husband and with friends, and having people who GET you, and all the connection and conversations that that entails. Like, it being October and you getting to wear your crisp Autumn clothes while it being very mild outside. Like, having a mean spread at Friendsgiving with all your pals. Like, having it rain and it still being a novelty after living amidst all that snow. Like, having a home and having plenty to eat and being able to be warm. All of it is good.

Body// is a bit wrinkly. It's telling me that I might need to listen to the insides soon. Now. So, I try to do that thing we call breathing. I try to rewire my thoughts to the helpful ones. I try to be curious about any and all anxiety. I recognize that October is a season of A Lot and it will pass. 

Hope is there though: this time last year (or the last few years, really), if I was this busy and stressed out, the body would have had a coup by now. A hostile takeover. But it's just a bit sharp around the edges, which is a kernel of something. 

Walking and breathing and releasing. That's my recipe for now.

Stoked!!!!// My country is my country again! This cannot be emphasized enough. Whatever comes next, I feel lighter and cleaner and truer. This is what it feels like when a collective bunch of beings stumble out of hibernation. There is still much more work to be done, but the horizon feels cleared of a decade of dirty debris.

On Art// Lots of friendly ghosts this month: I had the privilege of seeing two beautiful plays--Empire of the Son and Cock. They sent my brain whirring. My Shakespeare acting professor passed away; he who taught us so much. It was strange to mourn someone you haven't seen in years. I watched my sister's choir perform in an alley. I dug out my old Theatre box and recited my monologues in a dark room, by myself. 

Being in a city where art is more accessible, I am bumping up against my past life more and more. It is new and old at the same time, this feeling. I think I will invite it in more...figure out ways to find an opening to crawl through. 

In the mean time, I write these little updates and round up pictures from my vacations, and let that be enough.

Thoughts on marriage// I wouldn't have gotten through this month without it. What a solid feeling, to have some flesh and blood person who is your very Own, but who lets you be your Own. We are good to each other, and that is all I ever wanted from life. Thank you X one million pearl earrings.

Upcoming// A light? A tunnel? I just have to hang on. There is relief somewhere soon (maybe even right now, this very second, if I want to get all philosophical about it), and I just have to trust that putting one foot in front of the other, as I always have, is the way to go. I am proud of myself, and that is a very big something good. 

Sometimes when I am deliriously tired, I think of you.

Love always,

Your pen pal

travelogue: cortina, we go

Copenhagen allowed us to slow down. We tried to blend in with the impossibly tall, intuitively stylish Danes, and aside from being way shorter and a bit more earnest and goofy, we succeeded in melting into that hygge way of life.

So! Just enough time to relax and then off again to the next adventure.

Stop # 3: Cortina D'ampezzo, in northern Italy.

Having spent five weeks travelling in Italy with my family ten years ago, this version of an Italian town was wholly different. Being situated in the north, nestled in the nook of the Southern Alps, Cortina is a collision of Austrian and Italian influences. The juxtaposition between the quaint flower boxes of Heidi's alpine youth, and the passionate slurp of tagliatelle going down someone's gullet. We watched little bambinos stroll by with their families, clad in lederhosen and pigtails. We'd spy strudel and tiramisu on the same menu; schnitzel and gnocchi too.